


Bubble of Soundproof

by parsleylion



Category: Linkin Park
Genre: Angst, M/M, Self-Harm, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 16:25:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12303018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parsleylion/pseuds/parsleylion
Summary: Mike makes a mistake, a fatal mistake that can never be rectified unless the other members of the band gave him a chance to amend his wrong doings; only they won't. He's hurting so badly and they're all blind to his pain. He wants to scream out at them, only he's too scared, he's too scared to ask for their help so instead he'll do what he's always done; take the easy way out.





	Bubble of Soundproof

Drained by the love that consumed my heart. I feel nothing now. Nothing but an empty space. I did wrong and I can't correct it. I did wrong and life won't let me amend it. I want to leave. I want to leave right now, to go out silently, to fade like the flame of a candle once it is blown out. Silently. Suddenly. I want to go because I'm too scared of what the future might hold. I'm too afraid to face this because the longer it's left, the harder it gets. I've cried. I've screamed. I've yelled. I've sobbed. No one seems to hear me though, it's like I'm trapped in my very own bubble and no one cares to get inside. And as I sit here, tired and alone, the warm water rippling around my clammy skin, the candle beside me flickering away, I tap my pen restlessly against my spiral bound book before pressing the nib against the pure white page.

  
  


And this is where I begin.

  
  


*

  
  


I feel numb, so tired and numb. I feel fragile, as if I could break anytime soon. Maybe this is it; maybe this is the calm before the storm, that quiet, tense feeling that suffocates you as everything begins to bubble up deep inside. Maybe that's what this is. Everything is slowly building up inside and I can see it now, I can see that it will happen so fast. One minute you feel nothing, then before you know it, the whole world is turning grey to black right before your eyes. Dark clouds drift around you, pushing down against you, making it hard to breath, making it hard to see clearly. And it's all too much, too much pressure, you can't take it anymore and then bang! Everything explodes. In one split second it all comes gushing out. The tears. The cries. The never ending screams.

  
  


I can feel it coming. I know that's exactly what's going to happen. It's been brewing up for a while now that I think about it. Maybe a few weeks now. Yes, a few weeks sounds about right. That's how long we've been on tour now. That's when things got worse, in my mind. I actually thought coming on tour would be the answer to all my troubles only it's made things a damn sight worse. I feel just as hurt, just as lonely, just as numb.

  
  


I hate that feeling. Numb. So empty, so  _nothing._

  
  


I hate the word, yet it describes everything so perfectly. Maybe that's why I detest it so much because I don't want to be numb, I don't want to feel this black cloud constantly hovering over the top of my head, smothering me and quashing my mind. It really hurts. It doesn't hurt half as much as the way you guys are making me feel though. Now that really fucking hurts.

  
  


You guys are all I have. You know that as well as I do. I have no other friends, no family around that I can speak to. If I were ever to lose you then I would lose everything. That's why I need you there for me day by day. That's why I love you all so dearly and would do anything for anyone of you. You know that, you've  _got_  to know that. I'm always here for you, to lend a shoulder to cry on, words of comfort or wisdom and not so long ago you were constantly there for me too.

  
  


So where are you now?

  
  


Where are you when I'm sitting alone in my bedroom with tears running down my cheeks and an empty bottle of pills in the palm of my hand? Where are you when I'm standing in front of the bathroom mirror, watching my broken reflection stare back at me, watching as crimson tears flow freely from my clenched fist before they drop down onto the floor below and lose themselves amongst shards of glass? Where are you when I bend down and pick up the sharpest piece of glass I can find and then begin to drag it relentlessly across the flesh of my stomach? Where are you when I stumble to my bedroom and collapse onto the floor, cry myself to sleep over and over again?

  
  


Where are you?

  
  


You're always busy, you're always out partying or relaxing at home with your friends and lovers. I know you all have lives outside the band and when we come home you just want a few days to yourselves but what about me? Don't any of you care that when I step off of our tour bus and wave good bye to you that I'm walking into a cold and empty apartment? Don't any of you think to ask me over for a day or so, maybe call me?

  
  


You always used to. I'm trying to figure out what's happened. What have I done that's made you all so cold to me? I wish one of you would tell me. Maybe I could correct my mistakes, amend my ways. Would that work? Would it be that simple? Would you start to treat me like you all used to do? I know I've done bad, but you all keep telling me that you've forgiven me, forgiven and forgotten and that you've all moved on. Why don't I believe you? It's obvious that my mistakes are never going to be forgiven, isn't it?

  
  


I used to be happy amongst you guys. You know I was always down, I always had troubles but when we got together to jam and make music in Brad's garage, everything just went away. I could rap and I was free. I remember those days so well, they give me this warmth inside and I can just picture the five of us; Joe, Brad, Rob, Dave and me. Do you remember too? I'm thinking of the summer just before Chester joined us. We were seeing the highest temperatures in a long time and I remember we just ignored the fact that it was sweltering and stuffy and carried on, writing song after song, practicing over and over again. Then Chester, you joined us a few months later and everything seemed to click into place. I felt comfortable with you five, I felt like I belonged and that things were going to be the same between us no matter what.

  
  


I guess I was wrong.

  
  


Things change. They always change. I hate that bloody word too. Change. It's like a pre written warning that things aren't going to feel good forever more and no matter what you do, it's etched in the stars that life  _will_  change. Sometimes it's for the good, but more often than not it's for the worse. At least, that's how change has always effected me. It's therefore always made me uneasy, apprehensive about every situation I find myself in.

  
  


Do you remember when I first met you Brad? I was pretty apprehensive then too. We were twelve, maybe thirteen years old and I was trying to get out of the school gates one sunny Friday afternoon. I say trying, because blocking my way were three boys from the year above me, leering at me, laughing at me, menacing in both their stance and the words that were coming from their mouths. Then you came along, glared at one of them, pushed him out the way and motioned for me to follow you. I'll probably spend my entire life thanking you for that. Do you even remember it? Maybe you don't, maybe I only remember it because from then on you were this great guy who stopped me from getting beaten to a pulp and you didn't even have to do it, did you? From then on I looked up to you, I still do at times. We were best friends throughout school, college, right up until now. I still think of you as my best friend even though sometimes I wonder if that's what you think of me.

  
  


Is that how you still see me? Or have I been replaced by others, people who are always happy with their life and can smile and talk to you about things you enjoy.

  
  


I feel as though we're gradually losing touch which is insane because we see each other everyday when we're touring. We just don't connect anymore though, do we? We just can't seem to start a conversation with each other, or talk about the trivial things in life because it's a chore for you to even acknowledge me at times, isn't it Brad? And I know, I deserve it, I deserve the cold you send my way. It's justification doesn't make it any less painful though.

  
  


I made a mistake, a big one at that but you told me Brad, you all told me that you'd forgiven me and I should just forget about it and move on. Forgive and Forget? I seem to remember that is was you, Rob who said those words to me. You always have been that type of person though Rob, the kind who sees good in everyone, the kind of person who's willing to hear everyone's views, you simply don't judge anyone, you understand that no one's perfect. At least that's how you used to be. When Brad first introduced me to you, you were only eleven, two years younger than me but who would have guessed that? Maybe it's because you looked older than you were; your tall physique and long, mousy brown hair making you look more like a teenager than a young kid. It wasn't just looks though. In your mind too, you came across as this wise, clever child, I was always envious of you for being so mature for your age. I always used to respect you, listen to everything you said.

  
  


Not anymore though Rob.

  
  


You painted everything out to me once when the band was just taking off. Do you remember that? I had my worries about things, about what would happen if we failed, what would happen if we ever fell out or argued. You told me that these were possibilities, but we'd have to fight against these things happening. You told me that no matter what happened, we'd all still be together, we'd all still be friends in the future. You told me that if mistakes were made they'd be rectified and that we'd all stick together no matter what.

  
  


No matter what, Rob?  _No matter what?_  You promised me, you swore on your life that there would be no turning backs on anyone, no fall outs, no end to the bond of friendship between the six of us.

  
  


You lied to me. I hate you so much for that. I hate you more than I've hated anyone before. I hate you so much that it makes me want to cry, it makes me want to hurt myself, punish myself for hating you with this much passion.

  
  


For the past six months you've turned your back on me, given me the cold shoulder, barely spoken a word or acknowledged me. Do you know how hard that is for me? Do you know how unwanted and bleak you make me feel? Every time I go near you, you turn away, usually along with Joe. You turn away and say nothing to me.

  
  


You're just as bad Joe, you really are. Every time you look at me it feels like a stab right through my heart. You make me feel so small, so insignificant. I wonder if anyone has ever made you feel this way. I'm sure if they had that you'd think twice about treating me as if I'm something you scraped off the bottom of your shoe, but then again, being yourself you probably wouldn't. You're stubborn, you don't stick to rules, you make them. I remember when I first met you as well. First year of college, the autumn leaves were softly floating to the ground and I was absently walking back to the dorms when I suddenly felt something hard hitting the back of my legs. Swinging around, you were stood behind me with this really cheeky grin on your face. You'd just whacked me with your big, clumsy art folder and were standing there, extending your hand to me. I'd seen you around in a couple of my classes and you just grinned back at me, told me you were Mr. Hahn and that we should hang out because you liked the sketch I'd been doing a lunch break. Like I said, always one to make the rules.

  
  


Funnily enough though, we hit it off straight away. Our friendship was based on the firm rocks of the passion we both shared for art. We used to spend hours just talking and talking the time away or drawing and painting into the depths of the night. Do you remember? Or has your vision of what we used to have been clouded by my stupid mistakes? I can't help but feel like it has.

  
  


I miss those days so much. Even up to the end of last year we still hung out most weekends, just chilling, listening to music and painting. I used to love designing T-shirts with you for our merchandise store, do you remember how much fun we used to have when our serious ideas got pushed aside by stupid designs? I'll never forget that T-shirt you made me back in December, just before everything fell apart. It had this drawing on it, almost anime style. A cartoon you'd drawn of Chester and I, hugging with these shit eating smiles on our faces. Below it you'd printed 'BENNODA ROCKS' in your signature handwriting. I can't even bear to look at that shirt now. I can't even bear to think about if for too long.

  
  


Has it come to this? Has it come down to only two people in the band who  _don't_  get up and leave when I walk into the same room? Has it really sunk this low?

  
  


I probably don't deserve you, do I Dave? You're quite possibly the only person that hasn't hit me or punched me or thrown a torrid of abuse my way. Maybe it's because you never get cross with anyone, you never in my time of knowing you have ever shouted or yelled at anyone. It's like you don't even have a temper, so there's not even one there to be tested. You're quite possibly the most laid back person I've ever known of.

  
  


It was Brad that introduced me to you too. I doubt I'll ever forget that day. The summer after one hellish, long, first year at college. I felt like a kid again. School was out and I could kick back and relax, see Brad and Rob, catch up with them and just forget about studying. I invited Joe over to meet up with Brad. Don't ask how, but I knew you two would get on like a house on fire. I wasn't wrong. So we were all in Brad's garage, absently talking about our musical interests and how it would be cool to start up the band that Brad and I had been in at High School when you turned up Dave. Phoenix, that's what you introduced yourself as. A small, auburn haired guy who had spent the entire year roomed with Brad at college. You proclaimed you needed a medal for putting up with him and he playfully smacked you on the head before pulling you into a one armed hug and telling you he'd missed you.

  
  


I must admit I didn't like you at first. You were too cocky, too self assured and you were stealing my best friend. I remember watching you with green eyes as you sat yourself down on the floor, picked up Brad's bass and started to strum away. Within weeks, the five of us began to meet most days and that's when our band was created and that's when my initial feelings for you completely changed Dave. I began to see the real you, the kind person you were and still are.

  
  


I feel awful when I think of the lies I told you Dave, I really do because if anything, you've been the one who's almost stuck by me in all of this. I say almost, because I can see the struggle you're having. Trying to stick to both sides, trying to keep the peace in a conflict that in reality isn't even yours. For that I'm so sorry that I seem to have dragged you into all of this, forced you into the middle, into the role of peacekeeper. I don't know why you're doing it because I can tell that majority of your mind lies with the others and their hate for me.

  
  


I understand why you all hate me. I understand why you're all angry with me but what I don't understand is why you won't be honest with me about it. What's done is done, there's no going back, I know that, you all know that. I don't know what you want from me. I offered to leave the band, only you wouldn't allow it, you wouldn't let me go. Is that because you're afraid it would finish the band off? If it is, you're all wrong. You know that Breaking the Habit is everyone's favourite song? You know why that is, don't you? You can't tell me I'm being stupid, even I know why it is. I'm not singing it, I'm not rapping, I wrote it but you can't hear me. You can only hear me through Chester's voice, and as many review I've read for that song, it's what many people would prefer. You can roll your eyes, tell me to stop being so melodramatic, tell me not to take notice of the criticism the media tends to sling our way, but when it comes down to it; it's nothing but the truth.

  
  


So that aside, you could survive without me which leaves me with only one more thought because there is no way that you're making me stay because you care about me.

  
  


It's my punishment, isn't it? This is your way of pay back for my cruel ways, my terrible mistakes.

  
  


Well I can't take it anymore, I can't take this punishment. Six months this has been going on for. Six months of torture, harsh words and constant reminders of my downfalls. I'm sick of apologising. I know I did wrong, I know what I did was truly awful but I can't change it. I swear to God I would if there were anyway but turning back the hands of time is not an option in this life. I can't change what I did nor can I apologise to you guys anymore because you just don't want to hear. My words are nothing more than a murmur in the background, my screams aren't heard, my cries are ignored. You make me feel sick. The lot of you.

  
  


I know I cannot justify what I did because it was so very wrong. I can't make excuses because there aren't any but I can tell you the truth because I want you to know exactly what happened; my intentions weren't to hurt, they were merely to comfort, to express my emotions. I didn't mean to go that far. I didn't mean to do it. I have to tell you all because so far you've not spared me the time, spared me your ears to listen to what really went on. Every time I've tried to tell you, it's usually you Brad that shouts at me, tells me that it's over now, that you don't want to hear.

  
  


Only if that were the case, if it were really over, you would not be treating me this way.

  
  


I'm sorry if this hurts Chester, I really am. I don't want to cause you anymore pain than I already have but this is the only way I'll feel like I can go; if you allow me to just explain what happened. I need to get it out before I leave. It's the only way I can move on; it's the only way I think you guys can move on too.

 

*

 

I remember when we first met Chester, do you? Even through all that's happened, it still makes me smile, it makes me warm inside. The five of us had been making music in Brad's garage for almost three years and it was coming to the the final year of college for most of us. Only we had a problem; we had no singer. We'd had several people try out, but they were all missing that special something. They just didn't have that spark about them. Unlike you. It was a nauseatingly hot Saturday afternoon when we first spoke. Brad and I were home from college for the weekend and were busy in his garage fiddling around with Rob's new drum kit. I remember Brad's mom yelling at us that there was a phone call and proceeding to throw the receiver in Brad's direction. She was pissed at us for making so much noise and Brad was laughing so much that I had to take the call.

  
  


You told me a friend of a friend had been down to audition for the band but hadn't been successful and you wanted to know if we were still looking for someone. You explained that you lived out in Arizona and had been in a few bands but they weren't going anywhere. I remember the way you paused and laughed a little nervously before you told me that you'd heard our demo tape and felt pretty enthusiastic about the music we were trying to make. See, you impressed me straight away, even before I'd heard you sing. You sang after that though, down the phone. I remember switching it to loud speaker, with a smile, watching the way Brad's eyes started to bug. That was it. We knew you were the one.

  
  


It all happened so fast after that, didn't it? You flew over to us the next week. God I remember when we first met at the airport. I was so nervous, so apprehensive. You were scrawnier than you are now, with these big round glasses and short, cropped hair. You wore these checked pants and a tight fitting wife beater and were carrying two suitcases which I later found out contained all your belongings. You got a job at a coffee shop, bought a car and would work and write songs during the day, meeting with the rest of us at night to practice and hang out. You got on so well with the others, immediately fitting in with such ease. It was almost like you'd known us forever. Is that what you felt too?

  
  


I remember feeling this connection between us straight away. I still to this day can't describe it. It was just this sense of easiness between us, this feeling like we could tell one another anything no matter what. Just a month after you left the world you'd hated back in Arizona, I found out you'd been sleeping in your car night after night. I remember refusing to let you go back and insisting you come sleep in the dorms with Joe and I. Does this still make you laugh a little? You weren't supposed to be there so we had to sneak you in every night. You used to sleep on the couch. I used to watch you sometimes or stay up with you till the early hours of the morning. That's when we got closer, got to know one another a whole lot better.

  
  


I learnt of your parents divorce, how you'd been left to fend for yourself when you were justa kid and how this subsequently had led you to find comfort in drugs because no one else had been there for you. I felt so happy that you found it in yourself to confide in me that you'd been a drug addict, been in and out of rehab a couple of times and this band, our music was very much a thread you were clinging onto because this was your chance to make something of yourself.

  
  


That's why I admire you so much Chester because you did it. You made something of yourself and if you feel like I broke you and tore you back down again then I'll understand, just as long as you know; you hear me when I tell you that was not my intention.

  
  


October 2000. We finally released our debut album, we'd all left college and had spent the summer supporting bands on various tours and finding our feet in the rocky world of the music industry. It always felt strange at first. Did it to you guys too? It was weird because I don't think any of us ever imagined that our dreams of being in a band would go this far. Our debut did so well. It makes me giddy just to think about it. I never in a million years fathomed it going gold, yet alone platinum. At least I can look back and say I achieved some good in my life. Even if it is all now clouded by my wrong doings.

  
  


We'd released two more albums and were enjoying our Christmas break together. Yeah even I was included back then, before I tore everything apart. I wonder sometimes if you still see each other when we're not on tour. I'm pretty sure you do. I'm positive that you all meet up together and don't bat an eyelid that I'm not gracing you with my presence. I mean, why would you want me around you? I should think it's bad enough that I'm still around and in the band, isn't it? I mean, even though you're the ones making me stay, I can tell, I can see it in your eyes that you wish I'd just disappear. Don't worry, your wish will come true.

  
  


I used to wish a lot. I used to wish, pray even that none of this happiness ever end. Christmas last year was one of the times I was doing that; just hoping that the next year be as good as the one that was coming to an end. How ironic. We were all together, at my house, I bet you guys still remember this, don't you? I mean, you're bound to remember the bad points of my life, aren't you?

  
  


December twenty eighth to be precise. A cold Sunday night and the day was coming to an end. We'd wasted it away, playing Xbox, listening to music, watching old re runs of The Sopranos and eating chocolates and left overs from the party we'd had on Christmas Eve. You guys all left, going back to your wives and girlfriends for the night and I was sat alone by my fake Christmas tree, watching the fairy lights flash on and off, hoping,  _wishing_  that you'd come back Chester.

  
  


And you did. An hour or so after I'd finished cleaning up and had straightened out the pillows on the couch, I was sitting by the window, watching through the condensation that had gathered on the glass pane. Watching the rain trickle down, watching as it splashed onto the path, pitter pattered against the rooftops of the houses further down the street. I was waiting for you Chester. Don't ask how, but I knew you'd come back. It was like it was written that on that particular night you'd not gone home; you were just waiting a while before you turned around in your car and drove back to my house. Am I right?

  
  


Maybe this will come as a shock to the rest of you but I was in love with him. I was in love with Chester, the guy you thought was straight, the guy you thought would never in a million years be interested in another guy. What made you think that though? I mean, he never had a girlfriend at the time, did he? You were obviously good at pretending Chester. Better than I was, anyway.

  
  


Our first kiss will always be with me. I hope it's the same for you and can only pray it doesn't cause you harm to think about it.

  
  


July twenty seventh, 2001. One hot, sunny afternoon and we were on tour, stuck in our stuffy bus, trying to keep cool any way we could because the air conditioning was non existent and we were on a ten hour drive across desert land. We'd just played a show and were driving through the thick heat of the night. Dave, Rob, Brad and Joe were playing Xbox in the back room. Then it was just me and you, lying on the floor in the front, laughing everytime we went over a bump. We had this great big bottle of water beside us that we kept taking swigs from practically every five seconds and you'd opened the fridge door to keep us cool. We were just talking. I even remember what we were talking about. Do you too? Or did it not mean anything to you?

  
  


It wasn't working though, was it? I mean, trying to keep cool wasn't working. It was almost impossible and as the lights in the back room were switched off and the other four crept into their bunks we made our way into that room, slumped down onto the floor again and stared up at the ceiling.

  
  


It was Chester who kissed me first you know. I doubt any of you would believe that, but it's the truth. I'm not saying I didn't want it, because in all honesty I'd wanted it since the first day we met. But he kissed me, that's all I'm pointing out. He. Kissed. Me.

  
  


It was sweet and slow and still makes my heart flutter, makes my fingers tingle just to think about it. I don't quite know how it came about. One minute were we lying together on the floor, our arms touching and we weren't saying much, just listening to the hum of the engine beneath us. The next minute you started to tell me how you felt lonely, didn't you Chester? You told me you wished there was someone there to hold you because sometimes your big, tough exterior was just a wishful facade. I took pity on you and wrapped my arm around your stomach. You started giggling, which started me off and you guys know what Chester and I are like once we started laughing over something. We just don't stop. The next thing I knew Chester was tickling me, playfully calling me a bastard for laughing at him.

  
  


Then it all happened so fast. He pushed himself on top of me, straddled me to the floor.

  
  


Do you remember this Chester? Do you?

  
  


You kissed me Chester. You. Kissed. Me.

  
  


Head lowering until our noses were almost touching. Soft breathing echoing around the room. Hands gripping onto my hips. Eyes closing. Head lowering even more until my eyes snapped shut and you were kissing me Chester and I was kissing you back.

  
  


We didn't speak about it again.

  
  


We kissed some more, on several occasions over the next two years. I bet that surprises the rest of you, doesn't it? I wouldn't be surprised if you think I was the one who instigated it? After all you knew I was gay, didn't you? But not Chester, no not Chester. Remember what I said though;  _he_  kissed me first.

  
  


We never spoke about it though. Even when we kissed on other occasions; on my twenty fifth birthday; at Joe's house in his closet; one or two times again in the back of the bus; we even made out for a whole two hours in my bunk. That was just before Christmas last year, just before our winter tour came to an end. We were in England, it was cold and Chester coyly told me he needed 'warming up' one night. I bet I'm making your eyes bug by telling you all of this. I just want you to know that not  _all_  of the situation was one sided. Like I said, I can't justify my actions, I can only tell the truth; most of which you've denied me to do so for the past six months. I'm not calling you a liar Chester, but have the guys heard all of this? Have they heard the missing parts from your mouth? No. I don't think so.

  
  


I was in love with you Chester, really in love with you. I was too scared to tell you, because believe it or not I would have rather had our secret, stolen kisses and be not sure what the hell was going on between us than not have you at all. Looks like I blew that though.

  
  


That night, the cold December night as I sat by my window, watching the rain and begging for your car to pull up into my drive, I made a promise to myself that I would tell you my true feelings Chester. I promised myself. It went wrong, I know it went wrong but at the time I was just trying to show you how I felt rather than have to say it; have to spell it out in front of you and deal with the possibility of your utter disgust that I was in love with you.

  
  


My heart almost jumped right out of my mouth when I saw a familiar car approaching the house. At first I didn't even believe it was you. I even thought it was probably Brad who'd left his house keys on my table. But then I believed it, when the headlights faded and you stepped out, locking your car before you jogged briskly up the driveway.

  
  


You were smiling at me Chester when I opened the door. You almost knocked me to the ground when you wrapped your arms around me and held on to me for dear life. I felt like a million dollars as you hugged me, whispered in my ear that you wished you never had to let go. I pulled away from you, shut the door and took your hand. We went upstairs to the guest room. Laid down on the bed and it started from there, didn't it?

  
  


You kissed me first, didn't you Chester? Pinned me down against the soft mattress and looked deep into my eyes before you pressed your soft lips against mine. You undressed me Chester. Do you remember that, hey? Or is that just a blur? A distant memory that my actions unintentionally erased.

  
  


You took off my shirt, my trousers. Slid them over my body and threw them to the floor. Then you took off your jacket, followed by your white T-shirt. Next your hands unfastened your belt, pulled it from the loops on the waistband of your jeans. It fell to the floor as you pinned me down and kissed me, ran your soft hands all over my body.

  
  


Every touch made me shiver. Every time your hand ran over my stomach, tingles ran through me; from head to toe. Every time your lips grazed against my skin I wanted more. I wanted more than you though, didn't I?

  
  


We were naked and lying together, our legs tangled in the sheets. I mean, what was I supposed to think, hey Chester? I'm not turning this around, trying to shift the blame but do you see where I'm coming from now? Do you understand? We were naked. Bodies warm and slick with sweat, pressed against each other, hands exploring freely at their desire.

  
  


I should have asked. I know I should have asked you Chester. Just a few small words could have saved our friendship, couldn't they? Only I didn't ask.

  
  


I flipped you over, pushed you down against the bed. You were lying on your back, so angelic as you stared back at me. I straddled you, sat on top of you and held your hands, took in the glory of your entire being. Not a single flaw. Creamy skin, glowing slightly where you'd caught the sun a few weeks before. Deep brown eyes staring up at me, a lazy smile across your lips and I just wanted to show you how much I loved you.

  
  


At the time it was all a haze, a beautiful haze. You can all roll your eyes and shake your heads but it's God's honest truth. I didn't hear him. I didn't hear him properly. Yes I heard his cries but they were so far away, muffled and distant, blurred in my ears because of the immense pleasure I was feeling.

  
  


I can hear them now though, Chester. Your cries are loud as day. Your protests and pleads have been haunting me ever since that cold night. You have to believe me though Chester, I didn't know at the time. I didn't know what I was doing was so wrong. When I pushed myself inside you I just closed my eyes to the world around. I was too lost inside you. I didn't mean to put my hand over your mouth. It's just that when I did hear a cry, it scared me, it scared me because I didn't want you to stop me from showing you how I felt. I'd waited so long for that moment. I just didn't want it to end. I guess that's why your screams and struggles went unbeknown to me at the time.

  
  


My hand over your mouth didn't help. My other hand gripping onto your hips with such force wouldn't have helped. Did you hear my words though as it happened? Did you hear what I was telling you Chester? I was telling you that I loved you and that I finally thought it time to show you how much. You felt so good, so warm as I slid in and out of you, ignoring the faint cries that sounded in the very back of my mind. They faded away after time and all I could do was go faster, whisper more words of love. Did you even hear my words or were you too scared to listen?

  
  


I'm so very sorry that I scared you. So very sorry.

  
  


I won't lie. It felt so good when I came, when I climaxed and marked you as my own. I could barely breathe as my hot seed poured into your body.

  
  


Then I could hear shouts. More clearly now. Not one voice but two.

  
  


My eyes opened and there you were beneath me Chester, two black eyes and a split lip. I didn't know that I'd done that to you only I didn't have time to apologise because that other voice was getting louder and by the time I realised what was happening you were at the bedroom door Brad, shock all over your face.

  
  


Chester was crying and Brad looked so angry. He yelled at me. 'What the hell are you doing to him? I came back to get my keys and could hear him shouting and screaming from outside. What is wrong with you? He was telling you to stop Michael. What have you done? What the hell have you done?'

  
  


Your face never leaves me Chester. As I pulled out of you and stared at you and you began to shake and tears poured from your eyes. It never leaves me Ches. Every night when I go to bed. It's all I see. Your tears slowly trickling from your deep eyes, meandering down your cheeks and mixing with the blood that poured from your lip.

  
  


You think I'm disgusting don't you Brad? Your look never leaves my conscience either. That stern glare, a sickening look as you marched over and punched me square in the face. You yelled at me, called me a sick fuck. Do you remember Brad? Do you remember those venomous words as they spilled from your mouth? Oh I'm not getting at you. I deserved them. I deserved the way you pushed me to the floor and grabbed Chester's clothes from around the room. I deserved to be left alone as you helped Chester out of the room, leaving minutes later with a loud slam of the front door to indicate you'd gone.

  
  


But did I not deserve a chance to speak out, to tell you what happened? I know what I did was wrong and there's no way I can ever change it but did it not once cross anyone's mind to just ask, see if I was okay?

  
  


No.

  
  


Then I guess that's it. My side of the story because I couldn't leave without telling you it, getting it off my chest.

  
  


I'm sorry for the pain I've caused the five of you, for the rift I unintentionally drove into the band. I'm sorry for letting you down, for making you hate me so much.

  
  


I'm sorry Chester for what I did, for the way I behaved.

  
  


This is my apology, a sweet departure from this world. I know that I'm not making it easy for anyone by sticking around. This is the easy way out but it's the route I didn't want to take. There's so much more I wanted to be, wanted to do with you guys but I feel I don't deserve it and none of you deserve to have such filth living around you.

  
  


I'm sorry to whoever finds me in this bath, submerged beneath cold water, soapy suds, protected by my very own bubble of soundproof. I'm sorry for whatever state I'm in when I'm found. I don't know what a body looks like when it's cause of death is drowning so I'm sorry if I don't look pretty. Just close your eyes and turn away, leave me to rot alone. Just like you have done for the past six months.

  
  


*

  
  


Drained by the love that consumed my heart. I feel nothing now. Nothing but an empty space. I did wrong and I can't correct it. I did wrong and life won't let me amend it. I want to leave. I want to leave right now, to go out silently, to fade like the flame of a candle once it is blown out. Silently. Suddenly. I want to go because I'm too scared of what the future might hold. I'm too afraid to face this because the longer it's left, the harder it gets. I've cried. I've screamed. I've yelled. I've sobbed. No one seems to hear me though, it's like I'm trapped in my very own bubble and no one cares to get inside. And as I sit here, tired and alone, the ice cold water rippling around my clammy skin, I tear the pages from my spiral bound book before folding them up with shaking fingers. I place the papers down, my pen resting atop of them. Then I turn and take a deep breath. This is it, I tell myself. This. Is. It. I blow out the candle, it's light instantly extinguished and dimming the world around me. My lungs take in their final breath and my eyes shut. My heart pounds as I slide down beneath the water.

  
  


And this is where I end.

  
  


*

  
  


**END.**


End file.
